Colder Weather
by stephaniew
Summary: Dean falls for a fellow hunter, but it scares the hell out of him and he runs. Then the lyrics of an unexpected song push him to sort out his feelings and hope it's not too late to get her back. Dean/OC


A/N: This one was inspired by a fantastic song of the same name by The Zac Brown Band. You should listen to it if you're not familiar, it's quite beautiful. This was also something of an experiment for me to expand my writing capabilities. Please let me know what you think! :)

All the love, as always, to my dearest friend and beta, **Mali Bear's Buddy**. She's a constant source of support, encouragement and creative ideas, and suggested the idea of tying Dean's thoughts to the song and the weather. I couldn't do any of this without her and I don't ever really want to try. :) I love you sweets!

Disclaimer: Sorry, don't own anything Supernatural related.

Colder Weather

Dean stares out the window into the darkness ahead of him. Snow drifts lazily down from the sky, whirling on the road. While it's pretty now, it promises to turn harsh in the near future.

He shivers slightly and turns up the heat. Not that it'll help. He hasn't been warm since...

He pinches his eyes shut for a moment and tries to control the emotions swirling within him, echoing the dance of the snow outside.

He casts a glance around him, looking for a distraction. The radio is useless. There's nothing like civilization for a hundred miles at least. Just the snow, the cold and the dark.

Then he spots Sam's music player wedged down in the seat. An iPod or something. He eyes it suspiciously as if it might spring to life. With a sigh, he picks it up. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

With some fiddling, he gets it up and running. Picks the first song that comes up. Piano followed by a man's Southern tinged voice. Country. Better than some of the emo crap Sam likes.

His gaze drifts back out the windshield. The snow is falling harder now and the wind has picked up. Yeah, this is gonna get worse before it gets better.

The song catches his attention. What he hears pierces his heart and constricts his chest. The hollow place inside him throbs while the cold pricks at him more insistently.

_At a truck stop diner just outside of Lincoln,_

_ The night is black as the coffee he was drinkin',_

_ And in the waitress' eyes he sees the same 'ol light shinin',_

_ He thinks of Colorado_

_ And the girl he left behind him_

_ He said I wanna see you again_

_ But I'm stuck in colder weather_

_ Maybe tomorrow will be better_

_ Can I call you then_

_ She said you're a ramblin' man_

_ You ain't ever gonna change_

_ You got a gypsy soul to blame_

_ And you were born for leavin'_

Son of bitch. Of all the damn songs on this stupid thing...

He'd stayed with her for weeks. Sharing her bed at night, her company during the day. They hunted, they made love. They fought, they made up.

He was in too deep before he knew it. He'd fallen for her hard. And it scared the hell out of him. So he'd made up some story and left her. In Colorado.

Sam had been furious. He adored Sophia and was horrified that Dean walked out on her. Sam couldn't understand why he would walk away from someone who loved him the way she did.

And now, a week later, Dean's wondering the same thing.

Work and whiskey filled the days, but nothing could touch the nights. Could warm the raw and frozen corners of his heart. Could blunt the sharp edges of the pain he tries so hard to outrun.

The storm outside intensifies, a strange mirror to the storm raging inside his heart. The simple lyrics of the song continue to speak to him.

_ Well it's a winding road_

_ When you're in the lost and found_

_ You're a lover, I'm a runner_

_ And we go 'round 'n 'round_

_ And I love you but I leave you_

_ I don't want you but I need you_

_ You know it's you who calls me back here, baby_

She's been calling him back to her ever since the moment he walked away. He remembers the look on her face. Resigned. As if she'd known he was a runner and she'd just been waiting for him to do it.

With a hard swallow he calls himself all kinds of fool. A coward. He had a chance to love and be loved. And he'd let it go. Let go of the best thing to ever happen to him.

The last notes of the song fade away. All he can hear is the howl of the wind and the slush of the tires through the snow. Stuck in colder weather.

With a rough curse, he pulls the car off on the shoulder. Dropping his forehead to the steering wheel, he sits for a moment in a futile attempt to wrestle his feelings back under control. With a sigh, he reaches for his phone and pulls up her number, clicking the send button before he can change his mind.

It rings twice, then he hears her voice and his breath catches in his throat.

"Dean?"

It's all he can do to speak her name. "Sophia..."

A long pause. The wind continues to whistle around the car. The chill begins to seep in, but he doesn't notice. All he knows is her.

"Is everything ok?" she says finally. "Is Sam...?"

"Yeah, yeah," he says quickly, "Sam's fine. Everything's fine."

Another long pause. He can hear her question in the silence.

"Actually, everything's not fine. I'm not fine."

She inhales sharply. "Dean..." A note of pleading.

"I need to see you, Sophia."

"I don't think that's a good..."

"Please. I need to...talk to you. To tell you..."

"Dean..."

"Just let me see you. And if you want me to go after that, I'll go."

A sigh. "I'm right where you left me." A click.

He exhales slowly, staring down at the phone. She was waiting for him. Relief and warmth suffuse him in equal measure.

He pulls the car back out on the road, back in the direction he came. The storm seems to have blown itself out, leaving the snow falling gently to the pavement. The wind only teases the flakes now, making them float like feathers to the ground.

Picking the music player up, he clicks to play the song again, humming the tune softly.

~~~SPN~~~

It takes him the better part of a day to get back to the small town in Colorado where Sophia's staying. The weather clears ahead of him. It's cold, but fair when he reaches her.

He pauses outside the door. He almost can't believe she's on the other side. So close. He knocks gently, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.

A long moment later, the door swings open. He nearly stops breathing. Beautiful. He swallows, eyes tracking over her. Notices how tired she looks. The dark smudges under her eyes. The paleness of her face. Her thinness.

His hands itch to touch her. His arms ache to hold her. To never let her go again. But her stiff posture and carefully blank face stop him.

Without a word, she steps back and gestures him in, closing out the winter air but leaving a whole different kind of frost between them.

Stalling, he takes his jacket off and tosses it over the back of a chair. She simply watches him, arms folded across her chest.

Dean doesn't look at her. He can't. All the things he thought about saying don't seem to be enough. He takes a breath, his tongue snaking across his lower lip. With a bitter laugh he says, "Looks like you're getting as much sleep as I am. You miss me?"

Sophia doesn't answer. Her eyes flicker angrily and she grits her teeth.

Dean gulps, feeling his face go red. He knows that look. Knows he needs to tread lightly or he'll find himself on the wrong side of the door. "Look, I'm no good at talking about my feelings. You know that."

"Try, Dean," she says, her suddenly damp eyes mitigating the fierceness of her tone.

He reaches for her, surprised when she doesn't avoid his touch. Her skin is soft beneath his fingers. Heat spreads through his body. It warms his arms. It fills his chest. He feels...whole. Like a part he's been missing has snapped back into place. "I miss you. I'm just...cold...without you," he says slowly, his eyes fixing on hers. "This...this thing between us? I need it. I need you."

She doesn't reply, just stares at him, eyes wide and still wet with unshed tears.

It's not enough. He tries for something more. "Sophia, I..."

She holds up a hand. "Dean, stop. Just stop," she murmurs, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

He freezes. Tries to swallow past the lump suddenly forming in his throat. Tries to hold back the ice creeping into his veins, keep it from pushing back the warmth he felt only moments ago. He's lost her. He's too late. He doesn't know how to say the right thing. He's failed her. Again. He's...

She shifts toward him, interrupting his internal self-flagellation. She waits until his stare focuses on her. "I was yours from the moment you knocked on that door."

Before he can even begin to think of a reply, she pulls his mouth down to hers, hot and demanding. Thought flies out the window as his tongue slips into her mouth. She tastes even better than he remembers. Sweeter. Hotter.

Her hands slide around his neck, then down over his shoulders. They find the edges of his worn flannel button down and push it off, forcing him to release her to drop it to the floor.

The cool air between them is just enough to bring him back to his senses. He drags his mouth from hers, the soft mew she makes hitting him straight in the gut.

"Wait, baby," he mumbles as she tries to get back to his mouth. "I don't understand. I thought you'd hate me for walking out on you." He rakes a hand through his hair, eyes on anything but her. "God knows I wouldn't blame you."

Sophia steps back into his arms, pressing against him. "I wanted to hate you," she whispers, gaze searching for his. "But I couldn't. I was pissed, yeah. And hurt. But..."

"But?"

Now her eyes shift to the floor. "Sam convinced me you'd come back. He said you...cared about me. And you'd figure it out." She shrugs. "I wanted to believe him, to believe in you, so I stayed."

"My _brother_ told you I'd come back?"

She nods, biting her lip. "He _does_know you pretty well, Dean."

He shakes his head with a rueful laugh. "Yeah, I guess he does."

Sliding her hands under his t-shirt, she rises on tiptoe to press soft kisses against his neck. "He just didn't tell me you'd keep me waiting quite so long," she sighs.

"I'm sorry, baby," he says softly. Also looking for skin, his hands move under her loose sweater. They trace over her ribs, along the curve of her waist, down to her hips. He feels her tremble slightly. Feels her soft, warm flesh under his hands.

She kisses her way along his jaw back to nibble at his lower lip. "I don't want to talk anymore," she whispers, "I want you to make love to me. I've been cold, too."

His answering growl is one of surrender as his mouth crashes over hers. The heat that's been simmering between them since he walked in the door flashes over into a conflagration. The chill he's been fighting since he walked out the door more than a week ago completely vaporizes.

He reaches for the hem on her sweater and drags it up and off before finding her lips again. His hands are everywhere. He feels everything. Every inch of skin he can reach. She's on fire and he's burning to the ground with her.

She leans into him, pushing him back toward the bed as she wrenches his t-shirt off. Their bare skin meets and fuses, leaving them both gasping. Her mouth traces over his chest as they tumble back onto the mattress, her hands exploring everywhere else.

Rolling her under him, he makes a scorching path down to her breasts, sucking and teasing. Nipping and soothing. He groans as she arches against him, breath heavy and quick.

Desire makes his fingers slightly clumsy, but he makes quick work of the fastening of her jeans. He pulls them down her legs, panties following behind. He strips off the rest of his own clothes before kissing his way back up her leg. Settling between her thighs, he kisses her hip, the inside of her thigh. He wants to taste her. To please her. To show her how much he's missed her.

She nearly comes off the bed when his tongue touches her. But his firm grip on her hips keeps her where he wants her. She pants and writhes beneath him as he torments her. She chants his name, her voice hoarse with pleasure.

Swirling and dancing, he explores every bit of her molten core. The noises she makes push him to drive her ever closer to the edge. His fingers join the torment and he feels her body begin to pulse. She's like a star about to supernova and he's more than willing to be consumed in the explosion.

With a harsh cry, her body arches one last time, shuddering as she reaches her climax. He kisses his way up her body, his touch soothing, his voice gentle as he helps her come down from her high.

When he reaches her face, her eyes flutter open, focusing slowly on him. "Holy..."

He chuckles, kissing the tip of her nose gently. "God, I missed you."

She stretches against him, her fingers fluttering down his back, her thigh rubbing against his hard length. "Mmmm," she purrs, "I can tell. Lucky for you I haven't had nearly enough of you yet."

He groans as her hand slips between them, stroking him teasingly. "Ahhh, baby," he chokes, rocking into her hand, "you don't want this to end that way, do you?"

She laughs softly and he groans again, this time in disappointment, when her fingers stop their torture. "Oh, no," she murmurs, raising her hips to his invitation, "you're not getting away that easy."

Unable to resist any longer, he joins them easily, gasping at the sweet agony as her tight heat surrounds him. Reaching for control, he moves slowly at first. Shallow and deep. Shallow and deep.

Finding her palm, he tangles their fingers, pressing her hand back into the pillow beside her head. Their eyes meet and hold, communicating everything words can't hope to touch.

Arching her body, Sophia meets him thrust for thrust. Her free hand digs into his shoulder, pulling him closer. She shifts beneath him restlessly. "More. More."

He hitches her thigh further up over his hip, plunging deeper. Burying his face in her neck, fingers still tightly woven with hers, he answers her request, increasing his pace. A wave of pleasure, starting at his toes, rolls over him and he calls her name as he spills over the edge, feeling her body contract around him in response.

He collapses onto her, breathing hard. The softness of her body beneath him is comforting, even more so when she release his hand to wrap her arms and legs around him. He rolls to his side, keeping her close, sighing as her head tucks into his shoulder.

Her voice is sleepy, but contented when she finally speaks. "Later you're gonna tell me where you've been for the last week and why."

He reaches to pull the blankets up over them, snuggling them in. "I will," he replies softly. "And then you're gonna tell me what the hell my brother said to you."

He hears her chuckle. "Fair."

Stroking her hair back behind her ear, he whispers, "Are you warm enough?"

She nods. "Finally."


End file.
